Stories of Another World: The Iron Revenant
by ThePriestSpy
Summary: For the warlord now known as Mordekaiser, death wasn't the end. It was just the beginning, the beginning of a campaign that was to shake the foundations of the world itself. A re-imagination of Mordekaiser's story, as created by myself based on headcanons.
1. Biography

As a fan of the Kindred, I was a little disappointed that Riot simply said: Morde doesn't believe in them so he doesn't meet them. Then, I thought a little about how inconsistent death seems to be in the lore anyway, and one thing led to another. So, here is my own take on the Iron Revenant's story. I might write more if people like it.

**Warning:** strictly non-canon, and only based on my own weird ideas and misunderstandings of Riot's lore.

* * *

Amongst the many calamities that have threatened the world of Runeterra over the course of its history, few are quite as prominent and notorious as Mordekaiser, a warlord from ages long past that once subjugated the lands already ruined by the great darkin wars. But beyond the defiled statues in the Immortal Bastion and the legends of great horror lies a story far darker than most dare dream of.

The great Iron Revenant was once, many lifetimes ago, a mere mortal named Sahn-Uzal. Subjugating large parts of Valoran, Sahn-Uzal carved himself an empire out of a world left in ruin by the wars of ancient, fallen gods. Yet, in time he realized that the greatest enemy to his reign would be no army, but his own mortality. Born from his dark desire to rule eternal, he began conspiring with his circle of sorcerers, seeking out the darkest, most forbidden forms of magic to make himself immortal.

Before their cursed works could be finished however, the warlords' rule would be brought to a violent end. The sundered people of the lands finally rallied together, and in the greatest battle since the fall of the darkin, Sahn-Uzal found his brutal end, his corpse burnt to ash, bones crushed and scattered, and his armor put on exhibit as a ghastly show of victory.

Yet, it was his death that proved to be the catalyst for Sahn-Uzal's true conquest. His soul awoke in a dark, ethereal imitation of the battlefield where he'd died, faced with the fabled Kindred. His cabal had believed these legendary gods of death to be naught but fairytales, the kind of stories told to comfort the dying, and yet, Sahn-Uzal would find his first end in the teeth of the Wolf.

Thus, severed from the living world, the soul of the warlord was cast into the Great Beyond. It was a world beyond all other worlds, filled by an eternal gray mist, and ruled by a great, relentless storm that tore at the souls of the dead, shedding their current incarnations to return their essence into the cycle of rebirth.

No other mortal had ever been able to weather this oblivion, and yet, Sahn-Uzal managed the unthinkable. Tempered by his hatred and his unbroken desire to rule, his will of iron kept his soul together even as countless others faded around him. He trusted his followers to finish what he they had started, and indeed, his inhuman endurance would be rewarded.

While the people of Valoran had celebrated their freedom from the warlord's rule, those loyal to him had finished creating the great, unholy ritual that would make their master immortal. They broke the boundaries between worlds, painfully wrenching Sahn-Uzal's soul from the Beyond and binding it into his armor, which they had retrieved in secret.

Thus, the Iron Revenant set out to reclaim his empire once more. The people of Valoran, thinking their freedom surely won, were distraught as their emperor returned, and those who had opposed him suffered the most terrible fate: eternal enslavement of their souls. From the slaughtered leaders of the rebellion, he forged a weapon to demonstrate his newfound strength: his cruel mace, Nightfall.

At the heart of his empire, the warlord erected the Immortal Bastion, a vile arcane fortress which served not only as his stronghold, but also as a vault for all the arcane, forbidden knowledge and artifacts he would come to collect. Under his cruel second reign, the tribes of the Noxii came to know Sahn-Uzal by a different name. A name in their native language, one that expressed everything the Iron Revenant embodied: _Mordekaiser_, the Emperor of Slaughter and Death, a moniker which Sahn-Uzal gladly accepted, considering himself above the weak, mortal husk of a warrior he had once been.

This time however, his plans were far more than just simple conquest. Inspired by what he had witnessed, the Iron Revenant created a design far more diabolical and destructive than anything Valoran had ever seen.

In face of such vile aspirations, the spark for the next rebellion was laid. From within his own trusted ranks, the memory of their first victory against Mordekaiser's tyranny was stoked, drawing the tribes together to bring the Iron Revenant down once more. During this second fatal battle, the cabal that conspired against him managed to lock his corrupted soul inside his armor, and separate him from his magic, which was contained within the Immortal Bastion. Seeking to imprison the tyrant forever, the cabal turned to the people of the Blessed Isles, and the Sentinels of Light agreed to seal him away beneath their homeland for all eternity.

The eternity of imprisonment was tragically cut short. When the Ruination engulfed the Blessed Isles, the great vault containing the tyrant was destroyed, the ancient magic seals undone by the force of the calamity. Reinvigorated by the great magic performed, the Iron Revenant rose from his prison to find himself surrounded by destruction and darkness. The corruption clawed at him, but to no avail: his magic was far older and more powerful than this pale imitation.

Now, Mordekaiser builds the core of his final campaign against the world on the ruins of his wretched prison. The specters of the Shadow Isles fear this ancient evil that has arisen in their midst, viler than even the most horrible creatures amongst themselves, and battle it where they can, but Mordekaiser will not be deterred. His gaze is set on reclaiming his old fortress, where a new faction has taken to guarding his power.

Since his banishment, a new empire has grown around the Immortal Bastion, the name of the ancient tyrant still whispered amongst the descendants of those who had brought him down. There are but few ancient souls now who truly know the terror of the Iron Revenant, and rumors of his freedom have them on a constant edge.

They know that if he were ever to reclaim the power kept within Noxus, they would not be able to foil his designs a third time. Then, his final conquest will begin, and the mortal world shall fall under his domination for all eternity.


	2. Short story 1

**Short story: A Reign of Iron and Darkness.**

* * *

Amidst the eternal chorus of screams that blanketed the rest of the Shadow Isles, Mordekaiser notes with grim satisfaction that his realm was almost deadly silent, the only sounds being the faint hum of his sorcery and the echo of iron on rock.

The shrieking spirits of the Black Mist had learned long ago to stay well clear of his grounds. His own servants did not dare wail in the same manner.

Standing on a rocky outcropping amidst the ruination, the Iron Revenant looks out over the core of his new, final empire. Great walls and towers of spirit-iron, forged from the souls of those… _unworthy_ to have part in his conquest, kept the armies of the Ruined King at bay. Amidst the boundaries of his new fortress stand his reliquaries, great vessels to contain the scores of souls yet to find a purpose.

Most important however is his ethereal army, standing ever at guard. Clad in spirit-iron armor, just like their emperor, these warriors were the foundation of all his aspirations, of his plans to retake the Immortal Bastion… and the greater design beyond: to conquer death itself.

* * *

_Even after many centuries, Mordekaiser still vividly remembers the day he died._

_Seemingly endless waves of enemies had come at him, and even as he crushed scores under his great mace, and shredded scores more with a giant maelstrom of dark magic, they had managed to break through and tear his mortal body to pieces._

_But what came next would prove to be key to his unholy design to rule all of Runeterra._

_The Kindred, once nothing but fairy-tale characters to him, appeared to lay his soul to rest. Even as the teeth of the Wolf painfully tore through his spirit, severing him from the worlds of the living, only one thought filled his mind._

_The stories he had once disregarded were true after all. The gods of death were real. And if there was someone that held power over all that died…_

* * *

Mordekaiser walks among one of his spectral legions. They all stand perfectly still, at attention for eternity, awaiting his commands.

One armored specter turns at the sound of his approaching footsteps. It was one of his generals, a powerful mage in his mortal life who now aided his lord with his designs. He falls to his knees, lowering his head.

"_Hail to you, emperor Mordekaiser. Your honor us greatly with your presence." _

The warlord nods curtly, before looking over among the ranks of ethereal soldiers.

This was his army, forged into iron from the souls of those strong enough to be a worthy part of his army. The bulk of them were foot-soldiers, souls who refused to serve him, and were thus forcibly bent to his will, now little more than puppets to be commanded.

A few wise, or perhaps cunning, souls pledged themselves to him willingly however, and he rewarded them by leaving them a modicum of free will. They became the generals of his army, whom he handed control of his legions.

During his second reign, he had been foolish enough to only enslave his enemies, thinking his subjects and allies loyal enough to be left their weak, mortal shells. That folly had led to his downfall, and now, all would be turned into iron, and bound to his will forever. Now, he kept even his generals on a tight chain, and at the first sign of rebellion, all it would take was a wave of the hand to crush their souls permanently.

It was a dangerous game, to give up control even just a fraction, but it was necessary for what was to come.

* * *

_The texts had spoken of a land beyond all living realms, where the universe laid the current incarnations of soul to rest, and returned their essence into the great pool of life, from which they would be reborn. They made it sound pleasant, almost esoterically enlightening._

_It wasn't. It was a hell all its own._

_The realm itself was endless expanse of lifeless, coarse dirt, blanketed by a dense, gray fog. All was subject to a great, relentless maelstrom, cold, biting winds tearing at the soul to dissolve it back into primal matter._

_Yet, he defied the universe with all his might, even as the pain grew stronger the more he resisted. His sorcerers were only days at worst from finishing the great ritual, and he would hold out until then. Thus, with his will of iron holding him together, and emboldened by the new plans growing within his mind, he wandered through the maelstrom, awaiting the moment he would be freed._

_He'd come to learn upon his resurrection that until that moment, more than a year had passed in the world of the living._

* * *

Another 'Harrowing', as the mortals called it, had passed, which meant new souls to join the Iron Revenant's legions. Each year, when the Black Mist left to hunt across Valoran, Mordekaiser would send his legions as well, his soldiers unsuspicious amongst all the other specters. Long ago, in the time when he'd been mortal, he would've balked at the idea of such subterfuge, but living multiple lifetimes imbued a soul with a certain capability for patience.

He would not risk discovery by the empires of the living… not yet, anyway. He would build his power in secret, for however long it took, until he was certain that the Immortal Bastion could be taken in one decisive strike.

First though, Mordekaiser would deal with the Ruined King's feeble attempts at defeating the new power in the midst of the Shadow Isles. Then, he would turn towards the upstarts of Noxus… and then, he would destroy the Kindred themselves.

* * *

_Silence fell over the crowd of advisors, generals and sorcerers as their emperor entered the grand throne room with heavy steps, iron resonating on masonry. Even after all this time of service, the walking suit of armor towering over most mortals still imposed feelings of uncertainty and even fear, though most would not say so out loud. _

_Mordekaiser lowered himself into his great iron throne, less out of physical necessity and more as a show of power and control, his enchanted mace Nightfall resting to his side._

"_My subordinates, you have all served me well for the longest time now." He began, and a slight murmur ran through the addressees. Their lord was rarely this cordial._

"_So, I believe it beneficial if you were finally informed of the grand design which our empire is to pursue."_

_The emperor raised his hand, letting necromantic magic play around the iron digits._

"_Upon my first demise, I discovered something most extraordinary. The gods of death, the Kindred, as they are known amongst the common crowd, are indeed real."_

_A few eyebrows went up in response to this rather unusual speech._

"_Theirs is the power to send the souls of the dead into the afterlife. Now I ask you, my loyal followers." He leaned forwards slightly. "If we were to destroy the gods of death, and make their power our own, would that not make us immortal, indestructible?"_

_Deathly silence fell as the assembled crowd, all people of great power and might, slowly pieced together what their ruler was proposing._

"_I shall collect more and more souls, and grow strong enough to destroy the Kindred, and take their power for myself. Then, our empire shall be not a single region, but the entire living world, and the gods themselves will cower at our might!" _

* * *

Mordekaiser laughed cruelly. He had an eternity to prepare, and an eternity to gain. The world… would be his, one way or another.


End file.
